


bleeding with the skyline

by hewantstomarryharry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, But it gets better I promise, I Don't Even Know, I don't even know anymore, I'm awful at tags I'm sorry, Louis sort of hates Harry but not really, M/M, Mentions of Alcohol Abuse, Recreational Drug Use, Zouis friendship bc life, blame ed sheeran, but sort of? is weed even considered drugs anymore?, if you don't wanna read for Ben that's okay he's only like mentioned twice, louis is a writer, louis is sad for the first half, mentions of self harm, no smut i'm sorry, oh wow I didn't realize how many Louis and Harry cliches there were sorry, sort of, they have a cat named Dolly?, this really isn't as sad and awful as it sounds I promise, whoops there's the fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 04:13:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2718371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hewantstomarryharry/pseuds/hewantstomarryharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>London was all red, as was Harry. Full of bleeding skylines and broken promises, hazy eyes and heavy hearts.<br/>New York was all blue, as was Louis. Full of sadness and heart wrenching regret, tears and inevitable fears.<br/>Harry returns home and now everything's turning to red.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bleeding with the skyline

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1Derfulfanfictions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1Derfulfanfictions/gifts).



> Hiiii, me again. I wasn't supposed to start anything new until I finished NABT. (oops?) But I found [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5J3_62Vj8KE) song and it sort of spiraled. No lie, this was supposed to stay under 3k, but. Whoops. Blame Ed Sheeran, again.
> 
> Before you read, the self harm and alcohol abuse is very, very minimal. Mentioned in passing twice, but please take care of yourself. xx

 

Nothing was really like Louis expected it to be, to be honest. There was no magical moment he found happiness. There was no exact moment he realized he made the right decision. There were no shining lights with his name. There was no boy waiting for him. There was no back up plan either, really. All he had was himself and the city.

 

The city that he'd fought his entire life to get. The city with the nice high rise flat looking out over the skyline. The city with roaring nightlife.

 

To Louis, London was all red. It was in the memories and burning skylines. It was red in the hazy eyes and all of the lies. It was in red because of the blood and sweaters. It was red in the way it was everything and nothing. The city was red with everything but anything that mattered.

 

He goes to the same mundane waiting job every Monday through Friday, comes home and has a glass of wine in from of the glass wall that overlooks the beautiful skyline and wonders where he went wrong. He feeds his cat after dinner and takes a shower, before taking his meds and falling asleep. It's routine. It's the only thing he has here.

 

Some nights he lies awake and wonders if tomorrow is the day he admits defeat. If tomorrow is the day he returns home with his tail between his legs and proves everyone right. He wonders how he's going to make it another day without speaking to his mum, his sisters. But more than anything, he just wonders what ever happened to the first boy he ever loved and wonders if maybe he still thinks of him too sometimes.

 

–

 

It's Friday. Which is usually a good day for Louis. After work he runs home and grabs a shower, feeds the cat and then heads downtown to meet Niall, Zayn and Liam for a bite to eat before they all pick a flat and cram together for Fifa and a few pints.

 

But it's also Friday. Which means something naturally comes up. Louis is just on the way to his flat when Zayn rings and announces a change of plans.

  
“Sorry bro, I guess Niall and Li are meeting up with an old uni friend tonight. I guess it's his birthday or something.” Zayn explains, sounding as annoyed as Louis feels.

“But Friday's are _ours_ , and it's been such a shit fucking week.” Louis whines, looking at his new outfit in the mirror – that was going to _waste_. Zayn hums sympathetically over the line. “You know what? Fuck them. Come over and bring that new shit you have and we'll have our own fun.”

Zayn chuckles. “You sure? Last time I brought my spliff...”

“Yeah, I know. It'll be fine. I promise. Just like, pick up a pizza on your way?” Louis asks, venturing into his kitchen. He opens the fridge and grimaces. “And maybe some beer?”

Zayn scoffs. “You're lucky you're my best mate. I'll be over in thirty.”

“Love you too, Z.” Louis hums, pouring himself the last bit of wine from the bottle sitting neglected on the counter. He sighs and stares at his cat, a fat orange tabby named Dolly.

“What the fuck do you want?” He snaps, glaring at the cat. “Shit, just fuck off, will you?”

And well. It's Friday. Louis is aloud to do crazy shit like talk to his cat, or yell. That's his prerogative.

–

Zayn arrives just as Louis finished changing into a pair of sweats and an old ratty sweater. There was really no use in wearing his brand new outfit to sit and have a session, was there? No.

“You know, I will never understand how you can afford this fucking place, man.” Zayn shakes his head, setting the alcohol and pizza on the coffee table.

Louis just raises an eyebrow. “I've lived here for like, three years now Zayn. Catch up a little, will you?”

Zayn shrugs, tossing his jacket on the side of the sofa before collapsing onto it with a yawn. “And yet you've still yet to tell _any_ of us how you afford it.”

Louis shrugs and reaches for the pizza. “Honestly I don't even know. Now, be a love and roll us a spliff?”

Zayn rolls his eyes but agrees nonetheless and pulls out his baggie, ignoring Louis' million watt smile. Times like this, Louis doesn't think his life is actually half bad.

 

An hour later, they're both properly baked and there's only one piece of pizza left. But Zayn can have it because Louis has other things on his mind.

“I can't believe they just – they just _ditched_ us, Zee. For what? Some fucking friend from uni!” Louis huffs, coughing as he inhales on the cigarette he'd stolen from Zayn.

Zayn raises an eyebrow. “It's really not that big of a deal, yeah?”

Louis frowns. “It is though. I would never bail on you guys. Why didn't they invite us? Or like, even tell us about it?”

“Look, Lou. You know I love you, right?” Zayn asks, sighing when Louis fixes himself to sit cross-legged and stare at Zayn like he holds all the world's answers. “I've known about it now for like, a month.”

Louis' eyes widen twice the original size before he glares at Zayn. “Why didn't you say anything then?”

Zayn sighs. “I don't know Lou. Was just easier to let it go?”

“Wait. Wait wait wait.” Louis breathes, holding his hands up to signal Zayn to stop. This is really why Louis didn't smoke too often. It made his brain hurt. “ _We_ went to uni together.”

Zayn nods slowly, looking unsure. “Yes, we did.”

“With Liam and Niall.” Louis continues.

“That would be correct.”

“And you said it's a friend from uni they're out with.” Louis swallows hard. “And that it's their birthday.”

Zayn curses under his breath. “Lou.”

Louis shakes his head and stands up wobbly, walking over to his calendar that was on the wall with all his photos. The photos of _friends_ and _uni_ and _everything_ really. And there it is. Circled in big red marker is the date, February first.

“Fuck.” Louis curses, feeling the tears well up behind his eyes.

He hears Zayn stand up and come closer. “Shit Lou, I really thought you knew.”

Louis crosses his arms, squeezing his sides to try to stay whole. “He's back?”

Zayn sighs and pulls Louis into his arms. “Let's not talk about it tonight, yeah? Let's just get you into bed. Come on, I'll even stay and cuddle you.”

And there's really not much Louis can do but nod and let Zayn lead him into his bedroom and cuddle all the sadness out of him, is there?

 

–

 

The dreams haunt Louis because, of course they do. Louis is easy prey. He dreams of green eyes and red lips, chocolate curls and stupid tattoos. He dreams of the perfect getaway being ruined by selfish mistakes. He dreams of the could haves, would haves and fucking should haves. The dreams haunt Louis because, of course they do. February first has never been Louis' day.

 

–

 

Louis wakes up to a kink in his neck and a pain in his heart. And no, that isn't an exaggeration.

“Zayn,” He grumbles, trying to push the large body off of him. “Get your fucking elbow _out of my ribs_ please before I kill you.”

Zayn grunts but rolls over, nearly falling off the bed but narrowly missing it and clutching onto the side of the mattress.

“Well if someone isn't in a _lovely_ mood this morning.” He glares up at Louis, who shrugs and stretches.

“You make a shit pillow, mate.”

“I make a shit...” Zayn grumbles under his breath. “Gee, thanks Zayn for staying with me all night, you're such a great mate man, I love you.”

Louis grimaces. “All of that, minus the love. My ribs hurt. I think you jabbed me pretty hard. Surprised I'm not dead, honestly.”

“Oh fuck off.” Zayn laughs, sitting up properly and yawning. “Your snoring kept me up half the damn night.”

“Yeah, well.” Louis shrugs. “Spliff?”

Zayn smiles, patting Louis on the shoulder. “Spliff. Stay here and I'll grab it and make you a cuppa.”

Louis grins cheekily. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

  
Liam calls at half past twelve and Louis doesn't answer. Niall calls at one, and Louis doesn't answer. By three, he has ten missed calls from Liam, seven from Niall and two from an unknown number, among countless texts from his 'friends'.

“You know, you can't ignore them forever, Lou.”

“I can try.” Louis replies, not turning away from the TV, where Kim was currently arguing with Kourtney about something. Louis really needed to stay away from reality TV.

“I understand being annoyed - “

“Annoyed at what Zayn? The fact that they didn't even bother to tell me that he was back in town? The fact that they ditched _me_ for _him_ when _he was the one that fucking left_ , yeah? He fucking left all of us, okay? That was not on any of us, that was him. How can they fucking ignore that and just forgive him? Of course I'm annoyed. I'm fucking pissed.” Louis rants, glaring at Zayn. “And then he just shows up on his fucking birthday like a hero that everyone loves and misses and just – what? Expects to be accepted right back with open arms? What the fuck, no.”

“I'm sorry, Lou.”

Louis chokes on a bitter laugh. “Funny, those were his last words too.”

 

–

 

Eventually, he sort of does have to stop ignoring Liam and Niall. Because for one, he sort of loves them even if they are backstabbing traitors, and two, because he kind of works with them. So Monday morning is sort of hell.

“Look who's alive after all.” Liam rolls his eyes as Louis clocks in.

Louis sighs. He doesn't have to be _nice_ to them. “Look who's not going to be in five minutes if they don't _fuck off_.”

“Aw, Lou. You're not really mad at us, are ya?” Niall asks, popping his head in from the kitchen.

“You know what? No, I'm not mad. But we have five minutes until lunch rush hits and I am not letting you two fuck that up for me, so if you'd be so kind, let's work, yeah?”

Liam and Niall exchange looks as Louis busies himself re-stacking menus.

“He misses you, you know.” Liam says quietly as their first customers walk through the door.

And damn it, no. Louis does not feel his throat constrict, he does not feel tears threatening to spill over his lids, he does _not_ feel like he was just punched in the gut. What he does do is give Liam a curt nod and plaster on his biggest smile and say, “Welcome to _The Mousetrap_. How many are we serving tonight?”

 

Louis manages to avoid Liam and Niall throughout the night, mostly sticking with Perrie and Eleanor. He may have asked Ben to put him on another section, with the girls, but if he does that was none of anyone's business. They just need extra help.

By five, he's ready to chuck his shoes in a bin and go see Zayn for some much needed quality time with their third best friend, Mr. Spliff.

 

–

Louis manages to make it a month before he has to face his issues. And by facing his issues, that means coming home from work and having the issues standing in his kitchen doing the dishes.

He watches silently for a minute, as the tall figure reaches for another dish that's piled up on the counter. Watches the muscles in the back constrict as he reaches. He notes that he'd gotten taller, but of course he has, it's been over two years and he was nearly twenty now. No, he _was_ twenty now. His hair was longer, the curls grown out into soft waves and no doubt pushed back to showcase his stupidly large forehead. And _fuck_ , he's in the sweater.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Louis asks, standing in the entryway, his keys in one hand and his takeout in the other. He hates the way his voice shakes.

Harry starts and then shrugs, his back still towards Louis. “Dishes.”

“Get out. Please.” Louis manages to say. His hands are shaking and the tears he hadn't let go once since Harry left and came back are finally threatening to over spill.

“Lou,” Harry tries, shutting off the water and turning around. He wipes his hands on his stupid too tight skinny jeans. “Lou, I'm sorry, alright?”

Louis shakes his head and opens his mouth to say something – anything. But the only thing that comes out is a quiet sob as he drops his keys and takeout. Harry frowns and comes closer as if to help but Louis glares at him, at the boy that he gave everything to and the boy that _left_.

“Why did you come back?” The older boy asks, staring at Harry.

Harry sighs. “I needed clothes, Lou.”

Louis shakes his head. “No, not here. I mean home, London, _here_.”

Harry fish mouths, looking for the words but it must be in the air tonight because he's speechless as well. “I'm sorry.” He tries again.

Louis nods. That's right, that's what he expected, because it's Harry and Harry is always sorry. “Get out. Please. Just. Get your clothes and go.”

“Lou.”

“And for fuck's sake, _don't_ call me Lou.” Louis snaps, turning around and walking straight into the bathroom. He doesn't care, fuck Harry. Fuck Harry for bringing him to London in the first place. Fuck Harry for getting them this huge fucking flat that is _too damn big_ for just one. Fuck Harry for up and leaving one day, claiming it was something he just _had_ to do. Fuck that stupid sweater that Harry still has and wore _knowing_ how much it meant to Louis. _Fuck_ Harry.

 

–

 

If Louis calls out of work sick for the next week, and goes to Zayn's dealer for his own stash, well. That's his business.

 

–

It surprises Louis that it actually took them this long to come looking for him, but at the same time, his friends were sort of shit sometimes so it didn't really. It's two weeks after he'd seen Harry that he actually gets a knock on his door. And of course it's the three musketeers, all on the opposing team's side. Naturally.

“Why won't you just give him a chance to explain, Louis?” Niall questions, opening another beer.

Louis just shrugs and stares at the TV.

“Look, I know that he left you, Lou.” Liam snaps, his voice raising. It causes Louis to look up, because Liam rarely gets angry. “I get that, okay? But shit, he left us too, you know. And you don't see us crying and bitching about it do you?”

“I really don't think it's the same thing, Liam.” Zayn interjects, cuddling Louis into his side.

“How is it not? For fuck's sake, he was _our_ best friend too.” Liam yells.

“He was more than that.” Louis whispers, hiding his face in Zayn's sweater. He liked Zayn's sweater it was grey and soft and smelled like spliff and his expensive cologne.

“What do you mean?” Niall asks, glaring at Liam to get him to sit.

Louis just shrugs. “It was just more than that.”

Zayn sighs, moving the hair out of Louis' face. “What really happened, babe? You never told us.”

Louis frowns, and decides fuck it. Better get his side of the story in before Harry goes and gets them on his side. “You know how me and Harry came up here like a year before you guys? We just left uni and fucked off?”

Niall scoffed. “Yeah, thought you wankers were dead for a few months.”

“Yeah, well. Sorry about that.” Louis bit his lip and took a deep breath. “So uh, this is actually my and Harry's flat?”

Liam's eyes widened and he sent a cautious glance over to Zayn. “Um, what?”

“Like, it was originally his granddad's but, yeah. You know. Ours.” Louis explains.

“I always wondered how you afforded this fucking place.” Zayn chuckles, squeezing Louis tighter. “But like, every day. You live here without him.”

Louis chuckles bitterly. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Fuck Lou,” Niall curses. “I didn't even know he actually _left_. I thought you both just left at the same time and went different ways.”

Louis shook his head. “No. We, uh.” He frowned, worrying his bottom lip. “We were actually together for a few years? Like in secret, obviously. We didn't know how everyone back home would react, so we came here.”

“God dammit.” Liam curses. “When did he leave?”

“Why didn't you tell us, at least?” Niall huffs.

“ _Why_ did he leave?” Zayn asks. “We still don't know that.”

“He uh, left about a month before you guys got here? And as for why, I still don't know.”

“Fucking shit.”

“God damn wanker.”

“That bastard.”

Louis smiles bitterly. “Yeah, well. It is what it is.”

 

–

On April first, there is a folded up red sweater on Louis' doorstep, along with an envelope. He tosses the sweater into the garbage bin and burns the letter. He only feels better for a few minutes.

–

 

It's the middle of May when he sees Harry again, and it's probably at the most inconvenient time. He's in the middle of dinner rush at _The Mousetrap_ and it's then he realizes when you work at a place called _The Mousetrap_ it eventually turns into one.

“Tomlinson, table twelve is asking for you!” Ben shouts from the kitchen.

Louis sighs and finishes wiping down the table he's currently working on. If they asked for him specifically, they should know that Louis doesn't hurry for anyone, therefore he'll take his sweet old time.

“Tomlinson!” Ben yells again, causing Louis to cringe. “Table twelve! _Now_.”

“Yes sir.” Louis yells, flipping off the general direction of the kitchen. Sometimes Louis hates his job.

 

He makes his way to table twelve, stopping and asking the customers at his tables if they're still alright, and when he finally does get to table twelve he _really_ hates his fucking job.

Louis stares at the man at the table for exactly three seconds before turning around and walking away.

“Louis, wait!” Harry pleads, standing up and walking towards him.

Louis stops in his tracks and turns around quickly, bumping his chest into Harry's. He glares up at the younger boy and puts his hands on his hips. “What do you want, Harry?”

“To talk to you would be nice,” Harry sighs, then holds his hands up in defeat when Louis balls his hands into fists. “But since I know that won't happen, maybe just some food?”

Louis takes a deep breath and looks off to the side, where he sees Ben staring at him with a tense expression and he sighs. “Fine. What can I get you tonight?”

Harry smiles briefly, and squeezes Louis' shoulder before returning to his seat. “I'll have a water first, please.”

Louis rolls his eyes and nods. “I'll be right back with that.”

 

Louis has half a mind to spit in his water, but fortunately, or unfortunately in Louis' case, Eleanor doesn't let him. “Do you want me to take your tables?” She asks sympathetically.

Louis grimaces. “Am I being a baby about this, El? Like it's been two years, right, so I should be over it already? What am I even supposed to do?”

Eleanor smiles softly. “Do you love him?”

He bites his lip. “Of course I did.”

Eleanor chuckles softly and fixes his tie. “No, I meant. Do you _still_ love him?”

And there is it. “Of course I do. He's _Harry._ ”

“Then no.” She shrugs. “You're not being a baby over it. You're hurt. You deserve answers. You deserve _closure,_ babe. From what I've heard, you never got that.”

Louis just sighs and grabs the water, kissing Eleanor's cheek before walking back out there. Of course he knows what he's supposed to do.

 

“Here's your water. El's gonna be your sever tonight, sorry. I'm leaving.” He mutters as he sets Harry's water down.

“Louis, wait – just, please?” Harry frowns, reaching for Louis' hand.

Louis sighs, pulling his hand back. “If you'd like to talk, I'll be home all night. But just a warning, Dolly hates you now more than I do. So. Enter at your own risk and all that.”

 

–

 

The flat is cold and empty when Louis arrives home. He's usually used to that, but tonight it feels so much bigger so much more than it usually does. He's not sure if that's just because of him, or because of the fact Harry will be over.

He doesn't want to say Harry's coming home, even though in a way he is. He'd already come home, back to London, back to their friends, back to his old life. But _home home_? He wasn't coming back home. Louis already knows he didn't come home for Louis, so why would that change?

Louis goes through the motions, same as every night. He feeds Dolly, strips for a shower and closes his eyes while the warm water hits his back. He thinks about his life.

He thinks about when he was eighteen and falling in love with the beautiful boy that moved in next door. He thinks about when he was nineteen and they spoke about running away together in hushed whispers. He thinks about when he was twenty and and they finally did it, they finally left and they were finally together. He thinks about that awful day in February when that beautiful boy left with only three words and a stolen red sweater. He thinks about when he was twenty one and Zayn picked him up off the floor, with bleeding wrists and a broken heart. He refuses to think about now, twenty two and a beautiful boy that broke him back again.

He thinks about telling his mum that he was in love with a boy, and the look on his mother's face. He thinks about crying to Lottie that night, her telling him that she'd always love him no matter what. He thinks about the night him and Harry left, only a packed car and a promise of better things to come. He thinks about the amazing flat that was waiting for them in London, cozy, warm and just for them. He thinks of breakfast in bed and making love in front of the giant window at three in the morning. He thinks of their first Christmas, with that stupid red sweater. He thinks of going to sleep one night, thinking their little life was perfect, and then awaking in the morning to find Harry packing his bags.

He thinks of the day that the boys finally arrived, pulling Louis from the bottle of alcohol and into a cuddle pile. He thinks of the lies he told the boys. _I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine_. He thinks of the countless nights he'd go into the city just to find a fight, returning home covered in bruises and blood. He thinks of the nights he'd stay awake and stare out at the skyline, asking himself what he'd done wrong. He thinks of the morning he received a post card from New York with a dumb ' _Wish you were here!_ '. He thinks of smoking with Zayn to kill the thoughts, and possibly sleep. He thinks of Friday nights with the boys, anything to help him forget. He thinks of his routine, the only thing keeping him sane.

And then he thinks about Harry. Hearing he was in town on his birthday, exactly two years after he'd left. Knowing he was with Liam and Niall, and nobody told him. Seeing Harry in their kitchen, doing the dishes like it was a casual Tuesday night and nothing had changed. Except everything had changed really. He thinks about everything and nothing at all. It's a typical Thursday, and nothing had changed.

–

 

“Lou?”

Louis sighs and walks out of the kitchen, a wine glass in each hand. “Wine?”

Harry frowns but accepts nonetheless. “Since when do you drink wine?”

“Since I'm not aloud anything harder than wine or beer, and quite frankly, I don't feel like going anywhere.”

“Not aloud?” Harry questions and then backtracks after seeing Louis' face. “No, I mean. Yeah, wine's good.”

“Good.” Louis snaps, rolling his eyes.

“Lou.”

Louis sighs and moves to the sofa, pulling his knees to his chest. “What do you want Harry? Why are you here?”

Harry hesitates, as if he's not sure if he should sit or not. Louis rolls his eyes points to the other end of the sofa.

“If you spill that, Liam will kill you.” Louis tells him offhandedly.

Harry chuckles. “Why Liam?”

“Apparently I don't know how to clean for myself, so. Liam's sort of taken charge of that part.” Louis explains.

“Ah, yeah. Liam's good at that. The whole mothering thing.”

Louis nods. “Yeah. So. Anyways. You wanted to talk. So. Talk.”

Harry sighs. “Lou, look. I really am sorry. I should have told you I leaving.”

At that, Louis snaps his head around to raise his eyebrows at Harry.

“No. Shit. That's – that's not what I mean. I know. I shouldn't have even _left_. But. I had to, Lou. You've got to understand that.” Harry rambles.

Louis laughs bitterly. “How the fuck am I supposed to understand that, Harry? You never even told me _why_ you left. All I got was a ' _I'm sorry, Lou_ ', and you were fucking gone. For two fucking years.”

Harry frowns. “You didn't read my letter, did you?”

“Wouldn't have changed anything, really.” Louis hums, taking another drink of his wine. “Except maybe make me hate you more, but. You should probably be happier I didn't.”

“But Louis - “ Harry sighs, reaching over and wrapping his hand around Louis' ankle. It takes everything Louis has not to kick him. But he does. “Wait, you actually hate me?”

Louis groans. “Yes! No. Shit, Harry. I don't fucking know, okay? Am I mad at you? Hell yes, I am. Am I disappointed? Hurt? Annoyed? Heartbroken? Yes, to all of those. Plus more probably. You fucking left me here, in a big city where I knew no one, _alone_. You left in the middle of the night, you weren't even going to tell me, were you?”

When Harry just frowns, Louis continues. “Exactly. You were just going to fucking leave, Harry. Do you know how many nights I stayed up, wondering where you went and what the fuck I did wrong?”

“You didn't do anything, Lou. I promise.” Harry mumbles quietly.

“And the worst fucking part was, I couldn't even _cry_. After that first night, I couldn't even cry. Do you know how shit that is? To know that I used all my fucking tears that first night and I wasn't physically able to cry anymore? I went out and picked fights to try to feel something and I fucking _couldn't_.” Louis cries. “You know that last year, Zayn had to literally pick me up off the floor when I was minutes away from dying?”

Harry gasps, his eyes wide. “Louis.”

“And it really wasn't even all about you, really. Or maybe it was. I don't know. I left _everything, fucking everything_ for you Harry. I left my mum, my sisters. I left my home and my friends. I even fucking left uni. _Because you asked_. I had literally fucking nothing. No money, no friends, no job, no life. All because you decided one night, “Hey, this is what I wanted.” You can't just fucking decided that one night Harry. That's now how it works. People get hurt, and people break, and people bleed.” He rants. “People fucking _miss you_ and _worry about you_ , you stupid prick.”

Harry takes a deep breath and grabs both of their glasses, setting them on the table before reaching for the sobbing boy at the edge of the couch. Louis doesn't put up a fight as Harry wraps his arms around him and apologizes over and over again.

“Louis, you listen to me right fucking now, okay?” Harry whispers into his ear, tucking his hair behind his ear. “I loved you then, I love you now, and damn it, I have _never_ stopped fucking loving you, okay? I am _so_ sorry I wasn't here. I'm sorry that I was a selfish dick and left. I didn't leave because I didn't _want you anymore_ – Jesus, Lou. How the fuck could I ever not want you?”

Louis clings onto Harry's ratty tee shirt, wiping his eyes. “Then why did you leave?”

“Because Lou,” Harry lets out a shaky breath. “Because I felt like with me, you'd never be who you really are, who you deserve to be. Christ Lou, I made you _leave uni,_ for what? Me?” He scoffs. “That was shit on my part. We could have just stayed for another year, and you'd have your shit. You'd be a drama teacher by now, Lou. Do you understand that? You could be acting or something. And then there was me. I didn't want anything, other than you. I didn't have any big dreams, or goals, Lou. All I wanted was you, and a house, and Dolly. Our friends. I felt like I was just holding you back.”

“Harry,” Louis protests weakly, shaking his head. “You're fucking stupid.”

Harry shakes his head and pulls Louis closer. Louis sniffles and bangs his head against Harry's chest softly. “So stupid, Harry.”

“But Lou. Do you remember what happened the day before I left?” Harry asks quietly.

Louis shakes his head. The only thing he remembers from that entire week was happy, happy, happy, then sad, sad, sad. “No.”

“You got a call-back, Lou. You got a call-back and just brushed it off. Like it was no big deal.”

“It _was_ a big deal, Harry. It was on your birthday.” Louis protests.

“Yeah, well. You should have went.”

“So you're saying that, because I didn't go for the call-back, you left?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow and sitting up. “Is that seriously what you're saying?”

Harry groans and runs his hands through his hair, tugging at the ends. “No Lou, fuck. What I'm saying is that I didn't want you to give up on your dreams for me.”

Louis scoffs. “That's nice, Harry. Really fucking nice.”

“Christ, Lou. No. Shit. That's not – this isn't going how I thought it would.” Harry mutters.

“What?” Louis snaps. “Did you think it would end with me forgiving you for fucking off to New York for _two_ years, and we'd make up, you'd move back in and it would be all fucking fine and dandy?”

Harry sighs. “Ideally, yes. But realistically, no.”

“ _Idea-_ you know what, Harry?” Louis smiles sarcastically. “Wait here.”

 

Louis hears Harry muttering to himself as he walks into the bedroom and grabs two books off the bookshelf and starts ripping pages out. He finds Harry standing at the large window and he wipes his eyes before he starts tossing pages at Harry.

“What's this?”

Louis shrugs. “Read it.”

Harry sighs and picks up a page, his eyes darting across the torn page as he reads.

 

_(( I hope that even on your best days_

_you think of me_

_and your chest hurts_

_and I hope that every time_

_you put a cigarette to your lips_

_you miss me asking for a drag_

_and that the pillow next to you_

_still smells like my shampoo_

_and my photos and love notes_

_are still sprinkled around your room_

_I hope I ruined some of your favorite_

_songs_

_and that you can't listen to that band_

_anymore_

_without thinking of me_

_singing along in your passenger seat_

_and I hope_

_most of all_

_that you're sorry.))_

  


“What is this?” Harry asks, wiping his eyes. His green eyes are staring into Louis' blue and it's like a fight to see who will look away first. Harry wins. Harry always wins.

“Here,” He whispers, bending down and picking up another. “Read another.”

Harry takes a deep breath and stares at Louis as if he's trying to tear him apart. And maybe, Louis thinks, he is. He always has.

  


_(( this city bleeds red_

_much as do I._

_This city is not my city_

_and you are the reason why._

_I lie awake and I wait_

_for you to return home._

_And then I realize you won't_

_simply because you don't._

_You don't love me_

_and never did._

_If you loved me so much_

_like you always said_

_then why do I now feel so dead?_

_This city bleeds red_

_much as I do._

_This city is my city_

_and we are the reason why.))_

  


“Did you write these?” Harry demands, crumpling the pages in his fist.

Louis shrugs, staring out at the skyline, lit up with it's beautiful lights, and he wonders how something can be so beautiful if right under its nose there's a heartbreaking disaster. “I did follow my dreams, Harry.” He tells the younger boy, watching a plane fly over. “They just changed.”

“What do you even mean?”

Louis sighs. “I wrote a fucking book, Harry. Two, actually. This was the most recent.”

“You wrote...” Harry's eyebrows pull together. “You wrote a book?”

“The first one,” Louis laughs bitterly. “Was going to be birthday present for you. I had it all ready and wrapped for you. But then, you know. You sort of left me.”

“Lou,” Harry frowns. “I didn't even know...”

Louis nods. “No, yeah. I know. Nobody really knew. That's part of the reason I said yes when you suggested London. I was already in talks with an editor, and then she found me a publisher, and yeah.”

“Why am I just now finding this out?”

Louis hands over the books. The first one entitled _33 Seconds_ and the second being _Bleeding Skyline_. “Look at the author's name.”

And if the most pleasing thing to Louis right then wasn't the look on Harry's face as he read _'Larry Stylinson_ ' then he didn't know what was.

“You. Me. Our-” Harry stutters out.

Louis smiles tightly. “It's what the boys used to call us, yeah. I know.”

“Two books? Jesus.”

Louis shrugs and moves away from the window. “And they're both about you, so. You know. There's a third coming in November.”

“Fuck.” Harry exhales, clutching the books to his chest.

“So no, Harry. You are fucking stupid, because I still had my dreams, and I was chasing them. Even if you didn't know it. I love you more than my entire fucking life, but I wouldn't just leave everything for you, you know? You weren't holding me back, and I wasn't holding you back. How many times did I tell you that I'd support you with whatever you wanted to do? How many times did I tell you that I was the happiest I've ever fucking been in my entire time? Jesus Christ Harry, that was the stupidest thing you've ever done.”

“Louis, I'm sorry.” Harry whispers, wiping away the tears that fell from his eyes.

“Just. I have one question, Harry.”

“Anything.” Harry immediately replies. “Anything, Lou.”

“Why did you come back?” Louis asks, staring at a stain on the white carpet.

“Because I missed you.”

“After two years.” Louis smiles, clenching his fists. “You came back, for me, after _two_ years. And that's _after_ you tell me that you left because you didn't want to hold me back, yeah? So what good would coming home do?”

“I-” Harry stumbles over his words. “I don't know, Lou. I just know that I fucked up, and I love you and I miss you and-”

“I think you should leave, Harry.”

“What?”

Louis nods, walking towards the door and holding it open. “I think you should leave. Now.” He pauses, raising his head to look at the crying boy by the window. “Please.”

 

–

 

Before Louis falls asleep that night, he writes one more poem.

  


_((I waited and waited_

_for the day that you'd come home._

_I waited and waited_

_for the day that you'd stay._

_I waited and waited_

_without realizing you were doing the same._

_I waited and waited_

_until that day finally came._

_I waited and waited_

_and I think I just pushed you away.))_

  


Louis doesn't get much sleep that night.

 

–

 

Life goes on after that, much as Louis expected. He still goes to work every day. He still meets up with the boys on Fridays. He still feeds Dolly every night before bed. The only thing that really changes is Louis. And even then, he doesn't realize it until June first. June first is a good day in Louis' life, really.

It's not big changes. It's nothing that a random person would notice, like Ben or Eleanor. It's not even something that Zayn or Niall would notice, really. It was the little things.

It was way he'd smile at a stranger on the way to work. It was the way he stared out the big window with the hint of a smile now instead of a frown. It was the way that even almost burning the flat down trying to make a cheese toastie didn't feel like the end of the world. It was the way that his poetry now had a hopeful feel to it, rather than a dark note. It was the way that maybe life didn't feel like it was ending now, but maybe starting over.

He wasn't sure what exactly changes, but something had switched inside of him, and it was like he was finally able to let go. He let go out the hatred of Harry, of himself, of his family. He let go of the hurt and the pain. He let go of the unrealistic expectations he had for everyone, and himself. June first was a good day for Louis.

 

–

 

Louis gets home after another meeting with his publisher late that night, finding a series of post it notes stuck to his door, in an all too familiar handwriting. He sighs and reaches for them, plucking them off one by one.

_I'm sorry._

_Please let me at least try to make it up to you._

_Can we try again?_

_I miss you._

_I love you._

_I'm an idiot._

_I swear I'll do anything._

_Please._

_Okay, please don't hate me, but Zayn gave me the spare key._

_Please don't kill me when you come inside._

_Come inside?_

And well. Curiosity killed the cat and all that. Unsurprisingly, the front door is unlocked. Even more unsurprisingly, the entire flat is clean from what Louis can see. What was surprising though, was the smell coming from the kitchen and the soft sounds of Bon Iver playing in the background.

Louis sighs loudly. “I'm not going to kill you, Harry, jeesh.”

He half smiles and chuckles when Harry's head pops out from the kitchen. “Am I safe?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “If that's dinner, then yeah, you're safe for now.”

Harry grins, nodding for Louis to come into the kitchen. “It's dinner.”

“Thank God.” Louis mumbles, kicking his shoes into the corner and gratefully accepting the glass of wine for Harry. He stops the moment he gets into the kitchen and spots the food on the table.

“Is that - “ He stops himself and curses. “Jesus Christ. What am I saying? It's you. Of course it is.”

Harry smiles sheepishly. “Chicken wrapped in parma ham-”

“Stuffed with mozzarella cheese?” Louis finishes.

Harry shrugs. “Of course.”

Louis nods and takes a deep breath before sitting down. “Of course.”

 

“So why exactly aren't you killing me?” Harry questions halfway through dinner.

“Are you complaining?” Louis asks with a smirk.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Hardly. You couldn't kill me even if you wanted to.”

“Mmm.” Louis shrugs. “Let's not push it.”

“But honestly?” Harry wonders again, his foot knocking with Louis' under the table.

“Honestly?” Louis ponders. “I just decided that being upset with you wasn't worth it. I mean, idiotic as it was, you did what you felt was best. And, as much as I hate to say it, if I were in your position, there may have been a time I would have done the same, I guess? I mean, we were just _us_ for as long as I remember. And there's nothing wrong with that,” He adds after looking at Harry's face. “I'm just saying that maybe it wasn't such a bad thing.”

“So are we, like-”

Louis shakes his head quickly. “Let's just finish dinner and then talk about it, yeah? Tell me what you were up to in New York. I've been curious.”

Harry sighs, looking as if he wants to say more, but he doesn't. “New York wasn't too hateful, I guess. I stayed with Ed for a bit, he's touring again, so he let me crash at his place.”

Louis chuckles. “He's touring _again_? Shit, he never stops does he?”

Harry's eyes light up. “He got a record deal! Can you believe that? It's amazing.”

Louis grins. “Of course I believe that. Ed's incredible.”

“I really didn't do much, I guess. Got a job at a bakery, like back home. Took some photos, wrote some more songs.” Harry finishes with a shrug.

Louis laughs, loud and erupt. “You've been away two years, Harry.”

Harry sticks his tongue out. “Yeah, well. Shut up. Not all of us can be famous writers.”

They both laugh as they catch up, and Louis doesn't even flinch when Harry entangles their feet underneath the table. It feels like old times again, and Louis is so close to admitting how much he'd missed that.

 

“I missed this,” Harry smiles after putting their plates in the sink.

Louis raises an eyebrow from where he's sitting at the counter. “What?”

Harry shrugs. “I don't know. This. Everything. You. Your laughter, and the sparkle you get in your eyes. Your smile. Being able to have a conversation again.” He pauses halfway through washing a dish and laughs. “You sitting on the counter, looking pretty and pretending to help while I do the dishes.”

Louis bites his lip and looks down, watching his feet swing back and forth. “Yeah, it's nice, isn't it?”

Harry sighs and turns off the water. “Look, do you think-”

Louis clears his throat and shakes his head. “It's late, you should go. I've got to work morning shift.”

Harry sighs again, frustrated. “Lou.”

“Yes?” Louis asks, cocking his head to the side as he watches Harry box him in on the counter. “Can I help you?”

Harry huffs a laugh, his head falling to Louis' shoulder. “I think you're the only one that can.”

And well. If Louis' heart breaks a little them, that's nobody's business. He sighs and hugs Harry to him, his beautiful, stupid boy. He plays with the small curls at the nape of his neck and just thinks quietly to himself. He could have this all back. He knows that. He knows that in a minute, Harry would be his again. Louis is the one with that power. Fuck, he hates his life sometimes.

“Harry.” He whispers suddenly.

Harry just shakes his head and clutches Louis tighter, like he'd never let go. And actually, he probably never would again. Fuck, Louis really hates his life sometimes.

“Harry, can you do me a favor?” Louis asks.

Harry's nose is cold on Louis' neck as he nods. “Anything.” He replies and Louis shivers feeling his lips move against his skin.

“Kiss me.” Louis demands. “Please.”

Harry lets out a breath that sounds like he'd been holding and Louis feels his lips move up his neck slowly. Across his jaw, to his cheek, over his eyes, his nose, back down his jaw again.

“Harry,” Louis says weakly. “Please.”

Harry pulls back and cups Louis' face in his too large hands and stares into Louis' eyes. “You're sure?”

Louis chokes out a laugh. “Just kiss me, you fool.”

And well. Harry does. Softly at first, as if he'd break Louis with any more. A soft brush of the lips here and there, almost but not quite enough. Louis sighs and pulls Harry closer by his neck, molding their lips together the way Louis' been craving for two years.

He pulls back after a few minutes and rests his forehead against Harry's as they both catch their breaths. Louis blink his eyes open and smiles when he sees Harry's already watching him with a small smile.

“You should go, Haz.”

“But-” Harry stops himself. “Wait. You called me Haz.”

Louis shrugs and kisses him softly again. “I wasn't kidding when I said I have the morning shift. I've gotta be up in a few hours.”

Harry frowns. “Bu-”

Louis laughs and hugs Harry to him before pinching his bum. “I'll call you, I promise.”

 

–

 

True to his word, Louis tries to call. Which is difficult, since he doesn't have Harry's number, but he manages. A little birdy told him that Harry was staying with Niall, so. He does Harry one better and shows up after work with a plan.

“Hey, Lou?” Niall raises his eyebrow.

“Yes,” Louis sighs. “It is I. I know I haven't seen you in forever, blah, blah. I still love you and I'm sorry. Is Harry here?”

Niall groans. “Fuck.”

Louis purses his lips and cocks an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Niall frowns and pulls out his phone, leaving the door open for Louis. “Man, I have to call Zayn now.”

“Um. Why?” Louis asks. He hates being out of the loop.

“I had September. God damn it, Louis. You couldn't wait three more months?” Niall grumbles, his fingers working over his keyboard.

“What?”

Harry walks out of the bedroom, yawning and no, Louis is _not_ distracted by twenty year old shirtless Harry with all of his stupid new tattoos – and wait – is that a fucking _butterfly_?

“Would you care to explain what's going on here?” He asks Harry, still glaring at Niall.

“They bet on us.” Harry shrugs. “Does that surprise you?”

And well. “Not really.” But wait. “Hey Niall, just for curiosity. What was the bet for?”

Niall pauses and looks up. “For when you two finally get back together.”

Louis laughs. “Well, looks like the bet is still on, and Zayn lost. So.”

Niall frowns, looking between Louis and Harry. “What?”

Harry shrugs. “I fucked up big time, Ni.”

Louis nods, agreeing. “We're just friends for now.”

Harry grins and kisses Louis' cheek as he walks past. “For now.”

And well. Louis just rolls his eyes and throws a shirt at Harry. “Get dressed, you idiot. We've got a busy day.”

 

–

 

June to July, July to August, August to September, and September to October went much the same. Routine was the key to Louis' life, after all. Monday through Friday, he went to work, came home and fed Dolly. Friday nights were with the boys. Saturday is when it got a little different though. Saturday was spent with Harry, either hanging around the flat or out discovering London together. And Sundays? Sundays were Louis' new favorite day. Sunday was the day that all five of them were over at Louis' flat the entire day, back together again. And well. Louis sort of loved his life.

 

–

 

“What do you mean you two aren't actually together?” Zayn asks on the first of November as they share a spliff and watch Chef Ramsay yell on the TV. Louis really loves Chef Ramsay. And nachos. Harry made a good call on the nachos.

Louis shrugs and passes the spliff over to Zayn. “Exactly that. We're just hanging out. Taking it slow, I guess.”

“Bro, you two were practically married. And that's before we even knew you two were a thing.”

Louis shrugs again. “Yeah, well. We'll see what happens.”

“What are you playing at, Tomlinson?”

Louis smiles. “Absolutely nothing.”

“You've got a plan, don't you?”

Louis just shrugs and smiles as Harry walks back into the room, scrunching his nose up at the smoke.

“Here cutie, have a nacho.” He winks as he offers the plate to Harry.

The younger boy lights up and kisses Louis cheek before devouring the entire plate of nachos. Yeah, life's pretty good for Louis Tomlinson.

 

–

 

“You're not busy tomorrow, are you?” Louis asks a few days later at the grocery store. Harry had insisted to help Louis do the shopping at least once a week (usually Tuesdays) and cook at least twice a week. And well, Louis wasn't going to say no to Harry's cooking.

“Well,” Harry pretends to think and pretends to not see Louis throw in the box of biscuits. “Tomorrow's Wednesday. And Wednesdays are usually open, save for X Factor with you, _so_.”

Louis grins. “So you're free?”

Harry shrugs and grabs the milk off the shelf. “I'm always free for you, Lou.”

Louis rolls his eyes and hip checks the taller boy. “Corny as that was, good.”

“Good?”

Louis smiles. “You're mine all night, okay?”

Harry blushes and agrees and yeah, Louis thinks, okay. He's doing this.

 

–

 

“Come to the bonfire with me?” Louis asks the next morning when Harry shows up with two cups of tea.

Harry opens his mouth to answer and Louis cuts him off with a kiss. “And then maybe move back in?”

He steps back and bites his lip, waiting for Harry's response. He stands there in that _stupid_ red sweater from years ago (he'd gotten it from the garbage bin at some point) and his too tight black skinnies, his hair a mess, pushed back and Louis realizes that yeah, he's made the right decision.

“Really?” Harry asks, his green eyes wide and red lips showing the hint of a smile.

Louis shrugs carelessly. “Why not? You look pretty and buy me tea.”

Harry laughs and sets his cup on the nearest table before tackling Louis into the tightest hug he'd been in in awhile. And yeah, things were good.

 

–

 

They arrive to the bonfire just in time to see the first firework go off, giggling and holding hands like they were sixteen and eighteen again, like they have the whole world in front of them. Only this time they're twenty and twenty two and yeah, maybe they do have their whole lives in front of them.

They watch as the fireworks explode over their heads, and Louis knows there's a metaphor in there somewhere, but tonight he doesn't care to look for it. All he cares about is the fact that he's finally got his boy back. He's got his boy back and his best friends and a new book coming out. He's got his job, his health, and his home, and really, there's not more he could ever want.

“Look at that one,” He murmurs to Harry, watching as a huge red firework explodes. “I have a theory.”

Harry bends his head down to hear Louis better, and any other time, he'd probably smack him for pointing out how much taller he was now, but Louis had other plans.

“You're red, Harry Styles.” He starts, looking up at the sky. “For the longest time, you were red to me. London was red to me. It was full of bleeding skylines and broken promises. My days were spent with hazy eyes and heavy hearts without you, Haz. I grew to hate red in that time. But now that you're back, and I've got you again, it's different. You're still red, but the shade of red that I love. London is red. It's full of bleeding skylines and the reason it bleeds is because there's so much love, it can't help but bleed out some for the rest of us. My days are still spent with hazy eyes, but that's okay now, because I get to enjoy that with you. And my heart's not heavy anymore, Harry. Not in the way it was. It's heavy now, in the way that I seriously love you so fucking much it overpowers me sometimes, you know? So yeah, you're red, and I love red almost as much as I love you.”

Louis stands on his tip toes and kisses Harry, holding onto his shoulders as they sway quietly and stare up at the sky. Harry takes a deep breath.

“That there,” He points to the blue firework in the sky. “You're blue, Lou.”

Louis giggles. “You're so corny, oh my God, Haz.”

Harry laughs and shushes him. “No, hang on. I have a thing with this, I promise. I'm not as eloquent as you are with this stuff, but. You are, you're blue. That's part of the reason I chose New York. Everything was blue there, for me. Those were the worst two years of my entire life, Lou. I was sad the entire time, I regret leaving you every single day. There's honestly not a day that went by that I _didn't_ cry. And my biggest fear was that you'd realize that you didn't need me, that you didn't love me, whatever. But blue was also the reason I came back. You're blue like a fucking hurricane, you know? When I was sixteen and just moving in, you came in without a notice and swept me off my feet, and you've done just that every single day for the past four years, even when we were apart. I couldn't go another day without seeing you. I couldn't go another day without kissing your scars. I couldn't go another day without you in my life, Boo. Your eyes are my favorite shade of blue, and that's the blue that I came home for.”

Louis sighs and melts into Harry. “I love you.”

Harry laughs and holds Louis tighter. “I love you too.”

Niall chooses that time to run by. “So you two are together now?”

Louis and Harry laugh. “Yeah, Ni. Finally.” Harry answers.

“Fucking finally, when are you guys going to get married now?”

“Niall!” Harry snaps, his eyes wide. “Shut up.”

Niall just winks and runs off to find Liam and Zayn, probably to figure who was closest with the bet.

“Sorry about that,” Harry mutters, pulling Louis to his chest once again.

Louis rolls his eyes and kisses Harry's jaw. “And I'd marry you, Harry.” He pauses and then winks. “Because it rhymes.”

 

–

 

And maybe things aren't perfect. But things are worth it. Things are beautiful and wonderful and so, so worth it.

They still fight sometimes, like all couples do. Louis still has the fear that Harry will leave in the middle of the night again, but he never does. He's in bed beside him every single morning.

Their friends still call them Larry Stylinson, but the actual Larry Stylinson retires a few years after that and simply becomes Louis Tomlinson.

And well, Harry Styles becomes Harry Tomlinson too, but only because it rhymed. Obviously.

  
\--

_(( the red still burns bright_

_in the city and in my heart_

_but now the blue mixing_

_and it cools it to a slow burn._

_they are mixing_

_the red and the blue_

_to make a color that_

_I should know the name of_

_but I've yet to find one I like._

_It is red and blue_

_and blue and red_

_and together_

_they do not burn_

_they do not freeze_

_they mix_

_better than we ever thought they could_

_and together_

_they make us.))_

 

**Author's Note:**

> So first off, this is for my sister and best friend, who I love more than life. She's my rock and better half. I love you very much a lot, babe!
> 
> Secondly, all of the poems of Louis' in this are mine, except for [this one](https://38.media.tumblr.com/c59977a8ab43a6d3109a088b1e3fd46a/tumblr_ng2amjl4gj1s98suao1_400.jpg) that I sort of fell in love with. I had to made a slight change to fit the story, but. 
> 
> There's also a [mix](https://8tracks.com/bvalerio/bleeding-with-the-skyline) if you fancy a listen. xx
> 
> [Tumblr](https://www.hewantstomarryharry.tumblr.com)// [Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/BrookeValerio)


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